


Stars

by Ellstra



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Brentaal Futures Programe era, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9200243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellstra/pseuds/Ellstra
Summary: They need each other, and they belong together. But the older they get, the less whatever is between them feels like a game, the more it shows there are differences between them. But they can overcome them, they must.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something a little less grim for these two. I failed, I think. Although who knows.   
> Read and tell me in a comment? :)

“Galen, don’t beat yourself up about this, they’re morons,” Orson claims and pops a candy into his mouth with an almost obscene show. He knows Galen is watching him, despite fervently pretending to be doing something else. He’s left the older man to his own devices for a while, aware his lover might need space to deal with the insults the jerks in the hall spewed at them. Orson doesn’t care - couldn’t care less in fact - about what the pretentious idiots, whose only ticket to the academy are their parents, think of him. And though Galen understands rationally that they’re not worth his care and certainly not his thoughts, he can’t help considering whatever they say. But everything has its limits.

“Why are they so obsessed with reminding me that I’m not from here? How is it relevant?” Galen mutters and scribbles something onto a piece of paper. He’s trembling slightly with suppressed rage, something that rarely happens to him. He’s quite shaken by this particular encounter although he can’t say why. 

“It has to be relevant to them, you know?” Orson replies disinterestedly and stretches on Galen’s bed, “If they’re not superior to you because they’re from better planets, then they’re not superior to you in any aspect at all and they can’t really handle that.”

“Why do they have to be better?” Galen sighs, “Why can’t they just find a hobby or an interest and be good at that? I’m sure there are plenty of things they could be better at than me.”

“See, that’s the thing. They can’t. They’re idiots,” Orson counters, “even if they had the potential to be great at something, and I suspect they must, because they had to be chosen them over the other billions of idiots out here, they’re too dumb and lazy to work to really excel.”

“You make it sound like we’re the superior ones.”

“Aren’t we?”

“Doesn’t that erase the whole purpose of hating them because they think they’re better than us?” 

“You’re really smart, Erso,” Orson grins, “come here. Show me what you’ve got.”

Galen considers Orson’s invitations and hesitates long enough to glance at him. Orson is smirking mischievously and stretches again, his shirt pulling up to reveal just a hint of his stomach. Galen sighs and sets his pencil - so blunt it’s a wonder it’s still writing - on the table before kicking his shoes off. He lies beside Orson without even noticing the arms closing around him.

“Do you ever wish you were born here?” Galen asks.

“Do you?” 

“You answer first,” Galen demands, “I asked first.” 

“I guess it would be nice not to have everyone stare at you, or laugh at your accent, or sneer whenever you make a mistake as if it’s somehow tied to your origin and not to the fact that people make mistakes naturally. But I don’t think I’d want that. I would be one of them, lazy, stupid and wasting my potential boosting my ego and judging people from the Outer Rim.”

Galen laughs at that - Orson feels it against his side and it warms him up. Galen doesn’t laugh much, not sincerely, and he looks adorable when he does. 

“I’m glad you’re not from here then,” Galen says and kisses him.

“Yeah, me too,” Orson grins, “so how about you? Do you want to be from Coruscant high society?”

“I wish there was no such thing as Coruscant high society, that you’d get valued for your abilities and your intentions rather than where you’re from. Besides, I’ve never quite stopped missing nature. Everything is so automatic and crowded here. I miss walking for hours without meeting anyone.”

“Ever the dreamer,” Orson whispers softly. It sounds a bit like a mockery, but Galen doesn’t feel it that way. He knows that Orson often disapproves of his ideas, or thinks them unattainable and unrealistic but is enamoured with them all the same. They’re a part of who Galen is, the belief that all beings are equal and should be treated that way. He can keep them if he wants, and Orson will always be there to shield him from the harsh reality.

“Don’t you miss your home?” 

“Not really,” Krennic muses, “it was dull there. I wasn’t born to live in such a dreary place. And neither were you.”

“I think you’re wrong. Coruscant is too much for me, too bright, too loud, too crowded.”

“I’ll build you a perfect home,” Orson promises, “you’ll have everything you’d want, and nobody will bother you if you want to be alone.” 

“I don’t want to live away from you.”

“You wouldn’t. I’d be there, waiting for you.”

“You wouldn’t leave Coruscant for a planet I’d want,” Galen mumbles, “and I wouldn’t want you to. You belong here.”

“We’ll build our own planet.”

“You can't build your own planet,” Galen frowns. 

“There is no way you could gather enough clean energy to perpetually power a whole planet without damaging the environment,” Orson counters.

“That's not true. I've proven kyber crystals are utilizable in a far larger scale than just to power lightsabers. You  _ know that _ , Orson.”

Krennic grins instead of answering. 

“What would we do with a whole planet?” Galen asks. 

“Rule it? Show it off to all the self-important idiots in here who doubt us?”

“I'll leave that to you,” Galen laughs.

“Okay,” Orson smiles back and his eyes tell Galen it’s not barely a fantasy or a joke. Orson was always rather keen of drama and building a new planet was something exactly fitting his profile. 

“Do you want to see the schematics I designed for it?” 

“Of course.”

Orson hardly ever shows Galen his ideas, less so of his own volition. He claims they're not as fascinating as Galen’s own theories but Erso knows his lover wouldn't bear having his ideas turn out to be wrong or unfeasible so he guards them and perfects them until he's certain they're flawless. 

Orson reaches over Galen and gets his bag. He rummages through it for a while before pulling his datapad out. He unlocks it and searches his files until he opens one. He hands the pad to Galen and waits. Galen studies it with his keen eyes, visualising the whole thing. 

“That’s a bold design,” he says at last, “but it’s not a planet. This is a station.”

“Well you can’t actually build a planet, technically. Planets are in their nature not man-made.” 

“It has an enormous canon,” Galen continues.

“It’s to ward off threats. People would want to take it away from us.”

“And you want me to come up with a way to make it possible.”

“Haven’t you already?” Orson asks with a smile. 

“Not in such a scale,” Galen runs his fingers over the screen, “it’s possible, but the amount of the crystals this would require…”

“That’s why we have to convince important people that we’d be doing this for them. We have to get someone rich and stupid to think this is important.”

“What’s the actual reason behind this?” Galen asks and looks at Krennic intently, trying to see past his boyish joy to the core of the other man. It’s been getting harder to see all the way through Orson lately, as if he’s hiding something he’s not proud of, or knows Galen wouldn’t like. It saddens Galen and he feels hopeless. The person closest to him, his supposed other half, is distancing himself and there’s nothing Galen can do about it. 

“You had to pick up on that, huh? I don’t want us to rot away in some factory and just die with no life, no glory. I want to be someone, Galen,” Orson sits up and his cheeks flush slightly, “and I know I can do it - we can do it. Together, we can reach the stars and bend them to our will.”

“I’m not sure I want to bend the stars to our will,” Galens sighs wistfully.

“I know, darling,” Orson says and caresses Galen’s cheek, “you just want everyone to live in peace and security. You want to provide for them all.”

“Is that too much to ask for?” 

“Not for us,” Orson replies and his eyes glimmer, “just let me guide you. I need you, Galen, I need your mind.”

“Okay,” Galen agrees and closes his eyes when Orson bends down to kiss him. It’s easier to ignore his worries with closed eyes. It’s easier to just love Orson and see him the way he saw him a few years ago, back when they were new to all this, to the politics and greed of Coruscant. Because Orson might need his mind, be he needs the whole Orson Krennic and if it turns out to be his downfall? Well, then Galen’s doomed. 

And yet it doesn’t feel like doom when Orson straddles his hips and undresses him with care, and it feels more like heaven when they unite and Orson kisses every inch of his skin, whispering love confessions with every movement. It feels like home. 

“We’ll reach the stars, crystal,” Orson mumbles afterwards, “and I’ll give them to you.”

Galen thinks he’d rather live forever in this moment than have the stars. But then again, a peaceful moment of love is not enough for Orson, never would be. Galen supposes he’ll have to live with that.

“Okay.”


End file.
